


Of dry books and beating hearts

by Biekewieke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, Draco's POV, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts Library, I'm Bad At Tagging, Library Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, dramione - Freeform, hint of fluff, i'm terrible at this tagging thing, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biekewieke/pseuds/Biekewieke
Summary: Draco has been following Granger around Hogwarts. He knows her routines like the back of his hands.He knows she comes to the library in the dead of night.She's never noticed him before. Until now...What happens when personalities clash in the restricted section after midnight?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 30
Kudos: 252





	Of dry books and beating hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, 
> 
> This is my first tentative step in the wonderful world of the Harry Potter fandom.  
> I wrote this drabble thanks to a dream I had and couldn't focus on my other works until I got it out of my system.  
> So I caved.  
> Please be kind to this newbie. 
> 
> I would like to thank the wonderful Noppoh for opening up the hatch to the rabbit hole that is the world of fandoms...  
> I'm not sure whether to be grateful or scared out of my mind, but I love you all the same! 
> 
> And I would love to put the marvelous Namesonboats in the spotlight for taking the time and putting in the effort to beta this little one-shot and making it the best version that it could possibly be! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

I watch her from a distance, as I’ve done for the past four years. 

She was such an annoying child when we were younger. So smart, so quick to adapt, always on top of things. I always felt compelled to keep an eye on her. 

But now…

Now, it borders on obsession.

She’s still annoying if I’m honest. Bloody little know-it-all. I can’t help but grudgingly admit that she’s smart,so very bloody intelligent. The only one in our year who rivals me in the academics department. 

I mentally scoff at my reasoning. Who am I kidding? She has me coming in second place in almost everything. The only thing I’m better at is flying, and that’s simply because she’s terrified of it and doesn’t get on a broom… 

Over the past few years, she’s changed quite a bit physically. Knowing what an awkward little girl she was could never have prepared me for the beauty she has become. 

I know she’s nothing but a filthy little mudblood. I keep saying those words over and over in my head, like a mantra. 

But alas… 

No matter how hard I try, I cannot get her out of my mind. She occupies every second that I’m not actively focusing on something. She slips through the cracks of my concentration and leaves me shaken. I hate her for it. As well as I should. Yet there’s something about her that I cannot ignore. 

It confuses me. 

_She_ confuses me. 

_Hermione Jean Granger._

Even her name makes me frown, the mere way it rolls through my brain is enough to make me tremble inwardly.

Watching her the way I do, it’s no wonder I know her routines like the back of my hand. She’s so incredibly predictable, it’s preposterous. She thinks no one knows she sneaks off to the library every Wednesday night at midnight. And no one does. Except for me, that is. 

I look at her now, clad in her sleep clothes and a tattered old bathrobe, sitting at the same table she always occupies when she sneaks out. The one in the restricted section; the one that’s close to the wall where nobody can see her from the aisles in the regular library section. She’s toying with her quill, muttering to herself again as she’s reading a book on Ancient Runes. She’s always reading out loud. It’s disgusting and irritating and it shouldn’t make me want to smile.

I should report her to Filch.

I should tell Snape.

I tell myself this every time, but I never do. If I do, I won’t be able to watch her like this again. And I need to watch her.

It’s bittersweet torture. 

I know I can never have her. Hell, I shouldn’t even want her. But I do. Almost desperately so.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips, surprising me. And what’s worse, she’s heard it. 

I watch with trepidation as her eyes fly up in my direction. Annoyance and alarm flash about her pretty little face in less than a second, her mouth turns into that rigid line, her chin lifting proudly as she always does when she sees me. 

A brief flit of panic courses through me, but I push it down. I’m nothing if not resourceful. Quickly, I grab a book within my reach and scan the title, pretending to look away in irritation. I put on a show, as I always do. 

“My, my, what a surprise. Granger in the library. After hours no less. You’re becoming quite the little rebel, aren’t you?” I spit out the words as if they are an insult. 

Her eyebrow lifts in disdain and her mouth twitches. 

“Malfoy,” she bits out and I can see the effort it costs her to keep her distaste for me at bay. “I could very well say the same about you.” 

Silence briefly descends as we continue to keep eye contact.

Anger bubbles up inside me. I recognise that familiar tremor in my stomach, the same sensation that ripples through me whenever her big brown eyes look into mine for any given period of time. I’m saved from making a fool of myself when she speaks up softly. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy? Don’t you have somewhere else to sneak off to? Someone else to terrorise with your presence?”

I smirk at her words. She sounds so irritated, and it never ceases to amuse me. 

“Relax, Granger. I haven’t come here to steal your turf.”

I toss the book down on the table and pull up the chair across from her, secretly enjoying the way she’s glaring daggers at me. 

That’s the thing about Granger. She’s never been afraid of me. She’s never cared about my rank in society, or my pedigree of purebloods. I never realised how attractive that lack of fear was until she smashed her fist into my nose in third year. She is dauntless, this brave lioness. It intrigues me.

She glances down at the book and then back at me as I settle in the chair. Feeling nervous all of a sudden, I push a hand through my impeccable hair. I notice how her gaze follows the motion, but ignore the flutter in my chest. 

“My turf, Malfoy?” 

Her voice is still soft, probably because she is so used to being quiet in the library that she doesn’t even think twice about keeping her voice down. It’s second nature to her. 

“You practically live here, Granger. If anyone can’t find you, nine times out of ten you’re here, with your nose stuck in a book. Everyone knows that.” 

Even as I speak, I can see her bristles come up. Merlin, but I do love to ruffle her feathers. I cannot help the smirk curling my lips.

“There is no shame in being academically inclined. I happen to enjoy reading. I enjoy reading far more than I enjoy the company right now, actually.” 

That little quirk of her eyebrow… 

She probably has no idea how sexy that is—that, and her filthy little mouth that’s always so quick to reply with a witty comment. 

I feel my blood rushing towards my groin, and I’m grateful to be sitting down. It would be nothing short of a disaster if this witch knew she has the power to turn me on with something as innocent as the lift of a brow. 

I let out a chuckle that hopefully sounds disdainful. 

“Of course, Granger. How did Trelawney put it a few years ago?” I tap my finger on my chin and pretend to be lost in thought. ‘Your soul is as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave?’ Something like that, right?” 

I tilt my head and watch as shock is reflected in those dark eyes that haunt me in my dreams. I hold my ground as she stares at me as if I’ve slapped her across the face. Then, in a split second, cheeks are aflame and the fire is back in her gaze. 

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Feeling threatened, are we?” She cocks her head and gives me an arrogant little smile that could rival my own. “I’m sure it must be absolutely dreadful for you. Working so hard, only to be surpassed by a girl. And a muggleborn at that.” 

Her eyes spit fire and she stands, closing the book she was reading with a bang. She quirks that brow again. 

Merlin help me, but I am fully aroused now, watching this witch as she gives me a verbal lashing. It angers me, certainly, but the way her eyes are sparkling and the way her mouth trembles… 

“Oh yes, I can just imagine what a disappointment you must be to your father. The idea of his pureblood son never quite matching up to a filthy little mudblood witch must be quite crippling. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to bed.” 

Her snarky little speech makes my every nerve ending tremble with rage. Oh, that little witch knows exactly which buttons to push to bring out the worst in me. As she tries to walk past me, I am overcome with the need to retaliate. I get up from my chair and grab her by the arms, pushing her back into the wall. 

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, you little witch,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “But you have no idea what my life is like, nor of my relationship with my father. So you should just shut your dirty little mouth.” 

“Let me go, Malfoy, or I swear…” 

“Or what? You’ll hex me?” I give her my trademark smirk. “You can try.”

“It’s not my fault you have some serious daddy issues, Malfoy. And it’s not my fault that your father has set unrealistic standards that you can never achieve, no matter how hard you try. Now let me go,” she hissed. 

Her words hit me like a Stupefy. Does she mean that? Does she truly believe my father sets impossible standards for me? Why would she even care? 

“Malfoy!” 

Her hissed whisper drags me out of my own head. 

“Let. Me. Go.” 

I stare into her face, and once again, I find myself admiring her. The way her bushy curls frame her face. Untameable, much like the witch herself. The storm in her brown eyes, the impossible long fringe of dark lashes, the even white teeth and those lips that are made for tempting wizards. In a whoosh, my anger leaves me, and in its stead, there is a need inside me that I cannot comprehend. 

“Merlin's beard, you’re gorgeous when you’re cross.”

I have no idea how the words tumbled past my lips in such a soft, adoring whisper, but they did. And Granger definitely heard them…

Those doe-eyes go wide for a split second, then they narrow in confusion. She’s about to ask me what I mean by that, I just know it. And Merlin’s bollocks, I haven’t the foggiest why I said it out loud. All I know is that I don’t want to keep fighting her. Not now. 

Cutting off the question that is bound to be voiced, I cup her cheek and lean forward to press my lips to hers. 

Excitement courses through me. I am kissing Hermione Granger, my female arch nemesis. 

I would never have thought… 

No, in fact, I have thought about snogging her. Often. 

Usually with my hand around my cock, trying to get rid of the daily frustration she both knowingly and unwittingly subjects me to. I’ve thought about her in my arms just like this, a thousand times before. Secretly, in some dark, hidden place, moaning into my mouth, begging me to make her cum as I shag her senseless. I’ve thought of snogging her hard and vicious, punishing her for all the quips and taunts she throws my way on a daily basis. I imagine shagging her so good that she won’t even remember her own name, let alone that of the weasel she calls her boyfriend. I dream of being rough with her, brutal and unforgiving. 

So, why then, does my body do the exact opposite? 

I’m cupping her cheek, my thumb tracing her cheekbone as my lips move against hers gently, almost reverently. 

She stills in my arms, stiff as a statue. I pull back, still amazed at the softness of her lips, and stare into her face, searching for clues to her thoughts. 

Her dark eyes stare back at me, wide with surprise. I can only imagine what she sees. My sharp features, the blond hair, my silver eyes filled with fire and probably a fair share of unmistakable lust. She looks at me like she has never seen me before, and I cannot for the life of me determine whether that’s a good or a bad thing. 

I sense she’s about to speak, and I cannot have her ruin this moment. I just can’t. So I quickly press my lips against hers again and make the most of her little gasp of surprise. Pushing my tongue into her mouth, I let it slide against hers. Angling my head so my lips fit against hers better, I am lost to sensations that I have never felt quite this pronounced before. 

Suddenly, all my senses go on high alert. She’s kissing me back! She’s stopped struggling against my hold and is in fact grabbing my robes, trying to pull me closer. 

How can I deny her what she seemingly wants? 

So I oblige, stepping closer to her, and slide my arm around her waist. I grab her arse and pull her even closer, flush against me. Neither of us can deny the evidence of my arousal pressing into her soft belly. I reach up to bury my hand in her lush curls, marvelling at the silken feel of her hair. I give it a gentle tug and she lets out a startled little gasp that makes me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. 

I drag my lips away from her tempting mouth and let them trail down her exposed neck, nibbling my way down. The vein that throbs there tempts me beyond reason, and I cannot fight the urge to suck it hard and leave my mark there—claiming her with visual evidence. 

She lets out a tiny scream. It makes me feel more powerful than I ever have in my entire life. It’s quite terrifying if I’m honest with myself, but there’s hardly time for introspection now. Hermione Granger is trembling softly in my arms; her body pressed intimately against mine and her hands buried in my hair. She is all I can think about. 

I push the bathrobe and the strap of her top from her shoulder and let my tongue caress it slowly. I feel her shiver and hear her breath hitch. Desire courses through my veins in response, thick and drugging. Her hands in my hair pull me closer still, her body arching up towards me. I squeeze her bottom roughly, pressing her against me even firmer; she lets out a strangled little sound of surprise that tells me how much she loves it. I work my way back to her throat slowly, letting my lips nibble and teeth scrape along her collarbone and once again, I suck hard on her flesh to leave a mark on her skin. 

Her voice is soft and breathy when she speaks. 

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” 

As I bite down on her earlobe, she shudders, unable to keep her body’s reaction under control. Her hands tighten in my hair, but she doesn’t pull me back. 

I smirk, simply because I am used to smirking instead of smiling, and whisper in her ear. 

“It seems, Granger, I am in the process of shagging you senseless. This part is called foreplay.” 

She makes another sound of disgust this time. Probably at my crude wording. I let my hand travel from her hair to her breast and palm it, squeezing it ever so gently. Halting my barrage of kisses down her neck, I look down into her eyes. They are so wide and dark and full of wonder, I feel as if I could drown in them. It’s almost disconcerting, the effect this little witch has on me… 

I let go of her bum and grab both breasts to massage them, letting my thumbs flick over her nipples. 

Granger’s eyes flutter close. She lets out a low moan, her head falling back against the wall and her hands dropping down to my biceps, holding on to them for dear life. 

“Must you be so crass, Malfoy?” The breathless quality to her voice turns me on beyond anything. 

I flick my thumbs over her nipples again and pinch them lightly. She jumps, her eyes opening brusquely to gaze at me half-lidded. 

Her beauty dazzles me, but thank Merlin I still have a little bit of my brain that is active. 

“Every woman deserves a man who talks dirty to her, Granger. I’ll gladly take up the role.”

I crash my lips against hers again and my heart leaps in my chest when I catch her sigh of contentment. I’m sure she’s not aware of it, but I definitely am. I’m surprised when I feel her deepening the kiss, sliding her tongue against mine in a sensual caress that leaves me close to trembling. My surprise only grows when she pushes my robes from my shoulders, dropping them to the ground carelessly. I pull my wand from the pocket of my pyjama trousers and mutter a “Muffliato” before my lust muddles my brain completely. 

I barely have time to pronounce properly before Granger’s mouth is on mine again. 

The spell in place, I drop my wand just as carelessly and it joins my robes on the floor. I grab hold of her hips and pull her close, wrapping her in my embrace. 

I adore the feel of her in my arms. Her soft curves seem to be made to fit my body to perfection, and that scares me. It shouldn’t feel right to have her there, as if she belongs. My arms tighten around her involuntarily, and I can only come to the conclusion that my body no longer obeys my mind. 

Her kiss turns hungry, as if she’s starving, and I cannot help but return the sentiment. Her fingers bite into my biceps briefly before her hands slide over my chest to my abdomen. She grabs the hem of my T-shirt and pulls it up. I let her go and lift my arms, allowing her to pull the offensive garment over my head. 

I hear a tiny gasp and as soon as my eyes land on her, I catch her staring at my chest. It lingers there for a moment, then slowly her gaze slides down my body like a caress as she takes in my chiseled abs and the trousers hanging low on my hips. Her tongue darts out and she licks her lips. Insane pride rushes through me at the pure desire in her gaze. 

“Thank Merlin for Quidditch training…” 

Her voice is barely audible and it trails off at the end, and I know it was merely a thought she’d accidentally voiced. 

“If I had known you’d be looking at me like this, Granger, I would have taken my shirt off after the last game.” 

Her eyes find mine and I can’t help the smirk on my face. She is so easily riled, it’s almost too easy. 

“Shut up, Malfoy.” 

Everything about her right now, from her dishevelled clothes to her swollen lips and messy hair, makes my chest ache. I frown briefly, worried about this sensation. It tells me something I’d rather not examine right now. I have to keep up my pretence. At all costs. 

“Admit it.” I reach for her hand and pull her to me. “You think I’m hot,” I whisper in her ear and let my lips skim her outer shell. She shivers.

“You are too sure of yourself.” 

I smile and straighten slightly. 

“Is that so?” I quirk my brow at her and give her a tiny shove, forcing her back against the wall. I let my index finger trail along the edge of her pyjama bottoms slowly, skimming the tiny patch of bare skin of her flat belly that shows there. Her mouth opens involuntarily and her breath stutters. 

“And here I was, thinking you wouldn’t mind a man who knows what he wants.” 

The pun is mostly referring to the weasel, and I’m sure she knows. The bloody git doesn’t deserve her, and she needs more than what the ginger idiot will ever be able to offer. 

Granger doesn’t respond. 

It makes me bold. 

“A man who goes after what he wants,” I whisper. 

I hook my thumbs in the waistband and slowly push her trousers down. It’s as if her clothing agrees with me, for it swiftly slides to the ground without a sound. I smile gently, a challenge in my eyes before I break eye-contact. I glance downwards, and am stunned into momentary silence. 

Granger is wearing simple cotton knickers, pale pink with a floral pattern and a bit of scalloped lace at the edges. Not the kinkiest underwear I’ve seen, but it takes my breath away nonetheless.

The thing that almost has me on my knees is the large and quite obvious wet spot on the crotch. My eyes fly up and meet hers, and the colour on her cheeks is adorable. She doesn’t look away, despite her visible embarrassment. It only makes me admire her more. 

“Is this for me, Granger?” I watch her eyes widen. I look down again, mesmerised by the sight of Granger’s wet knickers, knowing I aroused her so much that her crotch was soaked through. 

My hand reaches out on its own, as if I hold no power over it. My middle finger trails back and forth over her slit slowly. She lets out a tiny whimper and my cock twitches in response. As I look up, I see that she’s closed her eyes. A sweet, mysterious little smile curves her pretty mouth, letting me know that she likes what I’m doing without words. 

Her hips start to move as if seeking more of my hand, so I let it travel up and then slip my hand inside her undies, repeating the same motion. 

Merlin, she’s so wet!

I slip my finger between her folds; her slick covers it immediately. She mewls and lets out a high pitched gasp when I graze over her clit. I retract my hand and wait, watching her face the entire time. 

When she opens her eyes, she looks at me startled and confused. I smile wickedly and lick my finger slowly, sucking off the slick with a sound of appreciation. 

She’s sweet. Much sweeter than I imagined she would be. She tastes like diluted honey, mixed with a salty little tang. It makes me crave more.

I watch with both fascination and an insane amount of male pride as her eyes go wide. She swallows hard, her gaze flicking between my finger on my tongue and my eyes. 

I lick my lips and smile at her, moaning appreciatively. 

“You taste divine, Granger.” 

I hook my fingers in the band of her knickers and slide them down slowly, never breaking eye-contact. Even as I go down on my knees and slip her feet out of her underwear I do not look away. Everything inside me is quivering at the idea that I will soon be shagging Hermione Jean Granger, the woman who has tortured me for seven long years now. 

Intent on making her squirm and encouraged by the way her face is flushed and how uneven her breathing is, I slide my hands up her calves to her thighs. I grab hold of her knee and place it on my shoulder, trying to keep from laughing at the look on her face. 

“What are you doing?” 

She sounds worried. Mortified even. Which makes me wonder… Surely the weasel would have worshipped her like this?

“I am going to make you cum on my tongue, Granger.”

I pepper the inside of her thigh with kisses and feel her tremble. Her chest is heaving, and I have barely even touched her… 

My face is inches away from her sex, and the scent of her arousal is intoxicating. Her folds are already swollen and glistening and it is taking all of my focus not to simply dive in and take what I want. 

No, I want Granger to remember this. I want to raise the bar so high no other man - wizard or muggle - will ever come close. The need to imprint this experience in her mind for all eternity is maddening. 

Somehow, I find the restraint I need to do just that. 

My breath is coming out in bursts, and I can tell it’s exciting her. 

“Such a pretty little cunt you have, Granger. After tonight, it’s all mine.” 

I ignore the wildly possessive streak that comes over me, and cave to the temptation. I press my lips to her core and absolutely adore the startled scream she lets out. I lick up her slit slowly and bump her clit with my tongue. 

She screams out again, and it morphs into a series of soft mewls as I start up a rhythm. As I circle my tongue around her click and suck softly, she cries out and grips my hair roughly, holding my head steady. 

“Oh, yes, right there, Malfoy. Don’t stop.” 

I smile against her folds and repeat the motion. Granger whimpers and her hips are undulating against my face. I place my arm over her belly and open her folds gently teasing her entrance. I look up at her, staring into her face from where I am crouched. It has got to be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. 

Granger’s face is scrunched up in ecstasy, her mouth partially open as she pants, her pretty little tits heaving as she’s riding my mouth. 

A warm feeling blossoms in my chest again, but I push it back down. No time to think about that sort of thing. She deserves all my attention now; I’ll think when I’m alone in bed later. 

I slowly push my middle finger inside her, marvelling at her tightness. She keens and her eyes whip down to meet my own. I smile and suck her clit just a little harder as I push a second finger in. 

Her eyes roll back and she lets her head loll as she moans loudly. Her gaze finds mine again, and she is delirious with desire. Her hand finds her breast and she squeezes it roughly as she pushes down, setting her own pace. 

I gladly follow her lead, happy to help her find release. I can tell she’s getting closer. Her legs are starting to shake, and instead of her death grip on my hair, she threads her fingers through my tresses. She’s muttering as well, and I can barely make out the words. 

“Yes, like that. Just like that.”

She whimpers, making frantic little noises at the back of her throat, high pitched little gasps and screams that set fire to my blood. 

“Don’t stop, Malfoy, I’m so close…”

I can’t help myself. 

“Then don’t hold back,” I mutter against her pretty little cunt that tastes like heaven. “Cum for me, love.” 

I pump my fingers in her faster, swirl my tongue faster, suck harder and it only takes a few more seconds before her walls tighten around my fingers. 

She lets out a desperate little scream. Her inner muscles spasm wildly around my fingers and I feel like I’ve died and gone to the beyond. 

I just made Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of our time, come apart on my tongue. And it was damned satisfying. 

I let her calm down, help her through the first orgasm slowly, sensing she needs it. But my body hasn’t exactly had it easy either. The desire pumps through my veins, lighting fires in my skin. My cock is so hard I could probably cut diamonds with it. It’s throbbing, aching to be touched, and I long to be buried deep inside her warm body. 

I get up off my knees and stand before her. Her eyes open and there’s an almost dreamy quality to the look she gives me. Before either of us knows what’s happening, I pull her into my arms and plant my lips on hers, snogging her as if my life depends on it. 

And, perhaps in some odd way, it does. 

I know she can taste herself on my lips but she does not seem to care. She is snogging me back as if she is trying to suck my very soul from me. Her arms are wrapped around my neck and her fingers are playing with the hair on my nape. It’s pure bliss. 

_Made for me._

It feels like she’s made for me. 

I let my hands wander down her back, squeeze her backside. My cock twitches furiously at the sound she elicits; she apparently quite enjoys it when I grab her arse. I file the information away, put my hands on her thighs, and lift her up. 

Granger immediately wraps her legs around my waist and her core comes into immediate contact with my erection. She rubs against me without any sign of shame, seeking relief from the same torture as me, and within mere seconds my crotch is damp with her arousal. Her hands are on my cheeks now, cradling my face as her tongue is warring with mine. 

It spurs me on, driving me mad. 

I push her back against the wall, reach between us to unfasten the strings of my trousers and push them down anxiously, my hands tremble the entire time. 

Granger lets go of my lips and I let out a disgruntled grunt, startling myself, but it disappears as her mouth travels from my cheek to my jaw. I pant as she presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to my neck, the feeling of her warm tongue sliding along my skin making it come alive. I freeze and fail to breathe when she mimicks my action from earlier. She is sucking at the junction of my neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a dark bruise on my pale skin. 

She’s marked me. 

The thought runs through my mind. I let out a low moan and pull her by the hair. 

Her eyes stare back at me in confusion. 

“Keep that up, Granger, and this will be over before it’s begun.” 

My voice doesn’t even sound like my voice anymore. It’s hoarse, breathless and edgy. Granger seems to like it, judging by the way a smile curves her lips slowly. A wicked glint shines in her chocolate eyes and I am bewitched, for sure.

“Are all the stories about your stamina nothing but tall tales then?” she asks me softly and arches her brow in that sexy way again. 

“Is it stamina you want, then?” I counter with a smirk firmly in place as I let my fingers trail along her slit. 

Merlin, she is dripping wet… 

The look in her eyes goes soft and almost wistful. I can feel her trembling in my arms. Her fingers caress my jaw and push through my hair slowly as her gaze follows the movement. 

She shakes her head and whispers,

“Just you, Draco.” 

I still completely. 

My eyes widen and my jaw drops. 

Did I hear her correctly? 

My breath is coming out in small bursts. Something wild and dangerous comes over me, sweeps in like a tidal wave and threatens to take me under. I don’t need a mirror to know my eyes are darkening. That my pupils have dilated so far that they probably seem black instead of silver. My heart pounds so loudly I fear she can hear it. 

“Say it again.” My voice is barely recognisable. 

The witch in my arms doesn’t pretend to not know what I’m referring to, thank Merlin.

“Draco.” 

The sound of my name on her lips… My name! 

There is no escaping that wave now, no matter how I try. My heart stutters in my chest, warmth grows inside me. I have never felt like this in my entire life. 

She leans forward and bites my lower lip gently, tugging on it with her sharp little teeth. 

“Now, can we please get down to you shagging me senseless?” 

Her teasing remark yanks me back out of my head. I smirk insolently. 

“I aim to please.” 

“That you do,” she says with a smile before she plants her lips firmly on mine. 

I resume my seduction with renewed passion. We both lose our heads, because I can’t keep track anymore. Our hands and lips are everywhere as if we cannot get enough of each other. I can’t get enough of her. 

I tease her folds with my fingers. I can barely stand it any longer, I grab my shaft and rub the tip against her entrance, coating it with her slick. 

“Don’t tease me. Shag me already.” Her voice sounds whiny and slightly nasal as she complains and it humours me. 

I have to agree with her, though. My patience is all but gone. 

I line myself up and with a tilt of my hips and one powerful thrust, I slide inside.

Merlin’s beard, but it is glorious!

I let out a hoarse scream, as does she. We both still for a moment, allowing our bodies to grow accustomed to each other. To come to terms with this.

There is no way to describe the pure, blessed sensual torture that is Hermione Jean Granger. I am buried in her supple body, her liquid heat surrounding me. I am entirely sheathed inside her, her inner muscles clamping down on my cock with just enough pressure to take my breath away and leave me wanting for more. 

A now familiar thought flashes through my mind again. 

She was made for me. 

I am even more certain of it now than I ever was before. 

I open my eyes and stare into hers. Something passes between us, unspoken but sincere and true. Our lips meet and we start moving together in a dance that has been done by lovers since the beginning of time. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I scoff at my thoughts. Since when have I become a poet? Since when do I get sentimental because of a simple shag? 

I push the thoughts away, focusing on nothing else but the woman in my arms, who is clinging to me like a lifeline. 

With every thrust of my hips, a delectable sound escapes her lips, as well as my name and unintelligible babbles. They urge me on, going faster or slowing down, whatever she wants me to do. I seem to be a puppet who does her bidding and I cannot even find fault with it. 

Funny how I already know her so well. How well I know her body. How well I can read it. 

She lets out a tiny yelp, when I hit a certain spot and I know she’s close. I tilt my hips a fraction and pound harder, sounds of pure pleasure leaving me with every thrust. I speak through gritted teeth as I try to hang on to my composure.

“I won’t last much longer.” 

She grasps the back of my neck with one hand and arches back with a frustrated moan. 

“Neither will I. Draco, please, oh please…” 

Her voice trails off as I slip my hand between us and find the little nub between her folds. I gently press my thumb to her clit and rub tiny circles in the same rhythm as I piston my hips. 

Just like that, she cries out and I feel her walls clench down on me. Her orgasm crashes into us both and it’s all I need to come undone myself. The pressure that has been building explodes with a ferocity that I hadn’t expected. 

“Hermione!” I scream out as my hips stutter against hers and my own orgasm slams into me with something close to violence. My scream morphs into a low guttural shout. 

I pull her as close to me as I can get her. 

It’s still not enough. 

It’s never enough. 

The silence that follows is almost deafening. The only sounds that reach my ears are our harsh breathing and the pounding of my heart in my chest. 

We stay that way for a while, and I try to calm the storm that’s raging inside me. 

She shivers in my arms as our sweat-slickened bodies are cooling down rapidly. I carefully extract myself from her sweet little cunt and instantly miss the connection. 

_Daft_. 

I look at her, witness her flushed cheeks. She doesn’t seem to want to face me. I grab her chin between my fingers and force her to meet my gaze. I search her eyes intently, trying to gauge her somehow. How she’s feeling, how she’s experienced this. 

Before I have a chance to speak, a flash of Insecurity reflects in her beautiful brown eyes, and she puts her facade back in place firmly. 

“The stories are true then.” She cocks that brow again and smirks, heating my blood all over again. “You really do know how to shag a girl senseless.”

I laugh at that, and it surprises both of us. I don’t laugh a lot anymore. 

“Did you doubt it?”. 

She tilts her head. 

“No. I’m sure it’s just your natural drive to be the best, like with everything else.” 

I cup her face on instinct and press my lips to hers. Once again, it’s infinitely tender and I can’t explain it. 

“I’ll help you get dressed,” I whisper and straighten her top. 

I help her into her knickers, kissing her thighs in the process. I discover she’s ticklish and for some reason I find it ridiculously endearing. Once her pyjama bottoms are back in place and the tattered robe is straightened, I quickly dress myself. 

Both dressed, I walk up to her again, overcome with an almost desperate need to taste her lips one more time. I cup her face and as I gently explore her mouth I pull her into my embrace, holding her close. She melts against me and when we step apart, we’re both smiling. 

“This doesn’t change anything, _Malfoy_.”

Her voice is quiet, taunting me as she picks up her books and her quill and puts them in her bag. 

I smirk, and end up chuckling softly. 

“On the contrary, _Granger_. This changes _everything_.” 

She slings the bag over her shoulder and shakes her head. 

“Good night, Malfoy.”

She walks away, hips swaying gently. Whether I like or not, whether I admit it or not, she’s taking my heart with her. 

I call after her, with a smile clinging to my lips. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow… _Hermione_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I loved writing it!  
> It's scary to step into the unknown, but I hope that I will be met with kindness and possibly even some love.  
> Please don't be afraid to reach out and leave me a comment, and I promise to get back to each and every single one asap! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> X  
> B


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